Dignity, Always Dignity
by PURGATIVESFORCHOLERA
Summary: Five children from the Midi travel into Paris; Jehan and Joly encounter convicts, hypochondria, and arguing Frenchboys.


_Yay, 4th of July. A holiday that if Enjolras were living, he'd celebrate with zeal. Then, I can stop spamming bad!fic until the 14th. Yayayayay._

_Disclaimer: If I were born in the 1800s, I. Would. Swoon. _

On the outskirts of Montfermeil, was an indescribably ornate carriage was docked. It had been there for a couple hours; if the inhabitants of the town noticed, they didn't say anything. A man in a gray waistcoat stepped out, drawing a curtain over the babbling back, and straightening his figure. He heard a stifled cry erupt from the carriage; it getting choked a moment afterwards. He sighed, walking up to the front, exchanging words with another man.

"Camille!" A rumbling started from behind the curtain, rocking the carriage ever-so-slightly. "Do cease your whining, shan't you?"

"I'm not whining! You're just jealous because I beat you at War!" he cried out, pouting ever so slightly as Courfeyrac stuck his tongue out in his direction.

"It can hardly be declared "wining", if you're not playing the game fairly, now can it?" Joly responded snidely, sniffing as he shoved Enjolras.

"For God's sake, Chrétien! I'd hate to get on your bad side—I'd never hear the end of it."Combeferre shook his head, sighing as he stroked Camille's head. He waited for the moment the boy would jerk his head back, and complain about his "acting like a buggering old maid",—as those happened quite frequently.

"Would you all just _shut up_?" Courfeyrac groaned, resting his head in his hands, then, switching it to his cousin's shoulder; utterly disregarding the frown that followed.

He attempted to shove off his unwanted leech, grunting with satisfaction when Courfeyrac whined, and squirmed back closer. "How about no-one can whine, groan, molest, or yell? And would everyone please avoid sneezing on Chrétien? I can't bear his screeching—God, it's like visiting my Aunt's house."

Joly frowned, shivering as he glared at Enjolras. "What's wrong with my voice?"

"You must admit, Chrétien, that it's increasingly shrill." Combeferre commented, sighing slightly when a particularly violent moment from the warring Courfeyrac and Enjolras shoved Enjolras' hair out of his grasp.

"When are we scheduled to start moving again, Camille?" Joly asked, somewhat awkwardly, twiddling his fingers.

"God knows when. I think we're to pick up one of your friends, Audric." Enjolras snorted, turning back, and pushing at Aimery. "Oh, no you're not! I won this seat fair and square, you inane little knave."

Combeferre raised an eyebrow, pulling apart the brawl, placing Camille on his right; ignoring Joly's protests that Aimery could sneeze on him for spite now. "Oh? And which friend is this?"

"Some Jehan Prouvaire or God knows what it was."

"Jehan? That bright eyed little boy that cried at the funerals of flowers, and baked cookies for the soldiers?"

"Frankly, I have no clue."

**

The carriage opened once more, Enjolras' father ushering a smaller boy in. Sitting down, he looked up, realising there was no unoccupied space left in the carriage. "Oh, bother. I'm terribly sorry about this, Jean."

"You can throw Aimery out!" Joly put in hopefully, his eyes shining with hope. Courfeyrac grabbed him, his eyes alight with panic. "Don't even_ suggest_ that, sick boy."

"There shan't be any throwing out of passengers. I shall not allow it." He commented, running a hand through his auburn hair.

"I have an idea!" Courfeyrac shouted, his eyes holding a slight mischievous glint.

"Courfeyrac, any idea you have can never be good."

Courfeyrac flashed him a quite feral grin. "You'll most definitely be saying that once you hear it. You know, Camille, it's truly quite humorous to watch you get all riled up."

"Well, then. Get on with it. I'm most certainly sure that Jean isn't enjoying standing up relentlessly." His father sighed, stuffing a hand into his pocket, pulling out a watch; mumbling to himself. 'Perfect. Delayed by two hours. Expected time to achieve: six hours; daybreak.'

"Camille can sit on Audric's lap!" Courfeyrac shouted gleefully, breaking out into an utter guffaw when he saw Enjolras' indignant expression; it was as if he wasn't sure to be bashful, or irate.

"I most certainly shall not!"

"Aimery, have some decency, shan't you?" Combeferre's face was flushed, burrowing it in his coat.

"See? If we'd thrown out Aimery out like I suggested, we wouldn't be _having_ this problem!" Joly cried, shoving at Courfeyrac's shoulder, and barring his teeth. Courfeyrac shoved him back, frowning, as Chrétien slapped his hands way. "What did I tell you, sick boy?"

"Camille, it's a queer suggestion to be sure, but what do you wish for me to do?" he gestured to the door, nudging Jehan on the shoulder. "Throw Jean out?"

"You could throw Courfeyrac out. I doubt there'll be much grief over _that_ decision. . ." Enjolras muttered sourly, scowling when Audric elbowed him.

"No. I shan't throw anyone out—that goes for Aimery as well. Honestly, Camille! You should at least make an effort to treat your cousin better. Your Aunt wonders why this side of the family is so utterly malevolent towards each other—my answer has always been, invariably: They're genetically bred to loath and despise blood relatives."

His father stood, stretching—as he passed, he patted Jehan on the shoulder, whispering reassuring words to him. "Come now, Camille. Do I need to make you?"

"What exactly do you mean?"

"Why, we can't stand here all blasted day, can we? And law requires that all passengers be seated whilst a carriage is in motion."

"I don't remember reading about _that_ rule—and regardless, since when do you hold a high regard for the law?"

"I don't. But," he swing an arm around to point at Jehan, "we have to set a good impression for our guests, don't we?"

As he reached down to lift his son, Enjolras made a last ditch attempt: "Make Aimery do it! He's the one that made the remark, after all!"

"Yes, but you're the host. A good host makes sacrifices for his guests. After all, you're seven. He's ten. What could you possibly object to?"

Blubbering as he was lifted, he sputtered out, "He lives across the street!"

"This carriage doesn't belong to the residence across the street, does it? Now, stop being such a stubborn little nuisance."

He plopped Enjolras unceremoniously into Combeferre's awaiting arms, patting his head, and pinching his son's flushed cheeks. Enjolras swatted him away, frowning as he tried to scoot off.

"No, no." His father laughed as he held Enjolras in place. He lifted Audric's arms, instructing him to place them about his shoulders.

"Around his waist!" Courfeyrac cried from his seat, grinning like a fool with Joly, who accepted a cease-fire for the moment.

He turned around, pointing about him, inspired. "Why! Here, guide your hand down to his hip—no, don't worry, he shan't bite—even if he did, it would terribly subdued, and here we are."

"This is absolutely ridiculous, and I must protest!" He cried from his seat, his cheeks even more so pink than before.

"Protest you may—your cries shall be ignored. Now, permit me to go instruct the driver, and we'll be on our way."

As he walked out the carriage, Enjolras squirmed, pushing the arms away, as a desperate attempt to free himself. "Come now, Camille. Be reasonable. Where would you sit?"

"I'd take Courfeyrac's spot—God knows he yearns this more than I."

Resting his head upon Enjolras' shoulder, he rested his head upon Enjolras' shoulder, nuzzling his neck unintentionally, "Quite honestly, Camille. Would you subject your own cousin to discomfort? It's simply not fair."

"It's not fair to me either, but you see me being subjected to it." He stiffened, twisting his head down to his shoulder, to cover his exposed neck. "Stop that."

He craned his neck, rubbing it as his Father stepped in. "Take off your glasses, shan't you? It's terribly painful for them to collide with my neck every second."

"Oh, no. You wouldn't wish to see me without glasses, Camille. I'm as bad as an old maid."

Enjolras frowned, huffing as he glared at his father openly. He turned his head when realising he was being ignored.

He sighed, tugging them off, and tucking them into his pocket. "Now you've done it. If I mistake you for the guillotiner, don't be aghast."

"Oh, cease your foolishness, will you?" he scowled as he yawned slightly, glaring at Joly when he realised the boy was shrinking back in fear. "Stop it, Joly. You're acting absurd."

"We shan't be there until at least day break, so I suggest you try and get some sleep, at the very least." He nodded, slipping his watch back into his pocket.

"But I'm too-"

"You'll look even uglier if you keep this up, Aimery."

Courfeyrac sulked, as he purposely slid closer to Joly, and rested his head upon the boy's shoulder. Chrétien shivered, rocking back and forth slightly, sneezing uncontrollably.

"Chrétien, stop sneezing already. Just shut up, and go to damnable bed."

"You needn't curse, Camille."

"Yes, yes. Just like he shouldn't cheat at War, but that doesn't stop him, does it?"

"Shut _up,_ Aimery."

**

The birds were chirping as he awoke, stretching out his limbs with a calculated precision, being sure to not jostle Jehan, or Joly. And God knows if he awoke Courfeyrac, there'd be hell to pay. He didn't need swollen eardrums this early in the day.

Enjolras was pressed hard against Combeferre's chest, snoring softly. Joly, for his credit, had stopped sneezing, but now was hiccupping in his sleep, his body's fame shaking softly; Courfeyrac snoring loudly into his ear. Ahh. And the child complained of ear aches.

He stepped out, the carriage shaking slightly. He winced as he saw Enjolras shift a little, and mumble to himself.

**

"This, my children, is Paris. Stay quiet, don't talk to any strangers, and stay close to me. And for God's sake, don't feed the homeless, Jean."

Courfeyrac pointed at the pouting boy, laughing so rancorously he nearly doubled over. Enjolras' father sent him a hard glare—Courfeyrac grinned innocently up at him.

"What are you looking at, Camille?" Combeferre asked, as he peered over his friend's shoulder.

"Revolutionary cafés." He muttered, his eyes not straying from the page.

Grunting as he was suddenly stopped, he looked up to see a quite disgustingly ugly boy about 15 holding his head with a maniacally styled grin. "May I help you?"

"God, you're pretty. How old're you? Ten? Eleven? Twelve?"

Enjolras stiffened, folding the book back under his arm. "Frankly, I don't feel very comfortable telling you that."

"Damn it all, Camille, get over here! I told you not to fraternize with the scum!"

"If you'll excuse me," he started, pushing ahead to his father.

The boy stopped him, gripping his hand more tightly. "Camille's your name, eh?" he raked his gaze down the body, "Suits such a gorgeous nymph as yourself."

"Release me, sir." He tried to push the hand off—the other hand rapidly increasing its incline.

"_Camille Enjolras! _Oh, bugger it. Audric, go over and grab him, will you?"

"Would you like to come with me, Camille? Leave these dull bastards behind?"

Combeferre grabbed his elbow, tugging him away, the _thing_ scowling as he threw insults at him.

"Damn it, Camille! What did I tell you?"

"I didn't walk up to him. He stopped me in the middle of the road."

He shook his head, pushing Enjolras up into the front, and instructing Jehan to stop talking to the homeless. "Audric, hold his hand and make sure he doesn't try anything foolish again, all right? If you choose to act like a baby, Camille, I'll simply treat you as one."

Jehan's attention wandered from the rising and falling of Enjolras' father's voice, as he caught sight of men in tatters travelling with no shoes present on their feet; beards not shaven. "That, my children, is a chain-gang. Vile diseases, and even viler men. Camille, now, promise me you shan't go up to them, and offer them your allowance again. I don't care why, but I'm telling you this now: if I see you fraternizing with scum once more, terrible, awful things shall occur."

Enjolras lifted his head to make grimacing faces at his father's back, getting swatted by Combeferre. "Don't stick your tongue out at me either, Camille Enjolras. I'll tell Monsieur Ultime to not allow you any sweets after dinner."

Jehan glanced up about the overwhelming buildings, and scenery standing in the back with Joly, as he sneezed into his handkerchief. The boy was actually quite pleasant—he had no idea why Courfeyrac loathed him so.

He tried to step forward, finding his foot stuck. He tried again, jiggling in it as he cried out, attracting Joly's attention. "God, what a huge leech! Oh, I hope it won't attack me."

"Chrétien! Help me already!"

Joly fidgeted, twirling his blond hair with his pinkie finger. "B-But I don't like leeches! My Daddy says they can kill you."

"I don't like the prospect of dying!"

He tried to shake off the leech again, shaking it about, he discovered it was a man, with terribly awry hair, matted beard, and yellowed teeth—well, what was left of them.

"Can you spare a sou?"

"I-I don't have any!" Jehan cried out, feeling tears starting to well at the back of his eyes.

"Yes, you do. Look at that waistcoat! And you have shoes!"

**

"Now, let's sit down, and have our lunch, since Chrétien keeps pestering me about him feeling faint. Do we have everyone?"

Hearing no complaints about the flowers upset his oh-so-so sensitive nose, or how the flowers never did anything wrong to anyone, Enjolras looked up from his book, nudging Combeferre slightly.

"Have you seen Chrétien or Jehan?"

Audric looked around, noticing Courfeyrac jumping up and down leaning over the fountain. "I think I saw them last in the back somewhere."

"Jehan probably wandered off, seeing a rare flower in a window, and Joly, no doubt, ran off, hoping to find a solution for his allergies."

"Camille, you needn't be so cruel to them." He frowned, looking into his eyes.

"Cruel? What am I doing that is oh-so-terrible?"

"I'm talking to myself, aren't I? Why not just go to La Force now? Save the police the trouble? Have we everyone?"

"Anyone that is sane, anyway." Courfeyrac commented, squeaking as he got hit by a stream of water.

His father frowned, searching the area. He saw Courfeyrac, wiping the water from his face; Enjolras and Combeferre arguing heatedly, no Jehan sobbing about life's woes, and most certainly no sniffling, so no Joly. "Time to go back. Missing one hypochondriac, and a one girl."

"Fine! Just because I'm not as much of a mothering hen like you, I'm considered a cruel bastard, and I should be put to death! Bring in Madame Guillotine!"

"Stop exaggerating. One thing I find infuriating about you, Camille, is that you always make a huge spectacle out of absolutely nothing."

"And you're saying that's definitely not what you're currently doing?"

"It most certainly is not—and I'd like to add that I'm not the one screaming here."

Courfeyrac scowled as he threw a glance towards the pair, still wiping water from his eyes. "God, you two are like a blasted married couple. Do you ever stop?"

"Do you ever contribute anything other than useless gags, and jokes?"

His father in the front sighed, wiping his face with his hand. "Do you have to find fault with everything, Camille?"

"It'll be mighty hard to not, especially with everything as it currently is."

"I've learnt not to argue with you. Now, come. Let's find your friends, all right?"

"_Audric's_ friends."

"What? I thought you liked Chrétien!"

"I do. Just because I like someone doesn't mean I consider them a friend."

"And that, my dear cousin, is why you have very little."

**

Jehan sighed, as Chrétien sniffled once more, hanging on his shoulder. "I-I'm going to die!"

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am!"

"You don't know that."

"Oh, but I do!"

"Oh?"

"Daddy is a doctor."

"Is he now."

"Yes! And he says that if you get AIDS, you're going to die!"

"AIDS isn't even real."

"Yes it is! He says so!"

"He's wrong then."

Jehan stopped, as he heard Joly gasp, rearing around to slap Prouvaire.

"Ow, Chrétien! That hurt!"

"So did you calling my Daddy a liar!"

"I didn't say he was a liar, just that he was wrong."

"What the hell are you two doing?" Monsieur Enjolras snarled, reaching forward to grab their wrists.

"Jehan called my Daddy a liar!"

"Frankly, Chrétien, be quiet."

**

The room was quiet; with the exception of Courfeyrac's creaking bed, and Joly's occasional hiccups. Jehan lay in his bunk, Joly sleeping above him.

Enjolras and Combeferre lay across the room; Enjolras on top, with satin sheets comparable to Jehan's cotton. Joly had also been given satin—he complained that cotton gave him rashes. Courfeyrac lay alone on the top, mumbling and turning. Honestly, he couldn't blame anyone for not wanting to sleep with Courfeyrac. The man was a potential safety hazard. How would you like to be crushed in your sleep?

He jumped as Joly ascended from his bunk, plopping half of his body on Jehan's bed. "Do you really think my father's a liar?"

"He's not a liar, I said he was wrong." He whispered, watching as Joly's legs slowly slipped from the top. "Now, get back up there. What if you get caught?"

"By whom? M'sr Enjolras? He's a little softie at heart."

Jehan shook his head, lying down once more. "You're a queer bird, Chrétien Joly."

"Do you really hate me?"

"I never said I hated you."

"Then can I sleep with you? I don't like sleeping alone—I get nightmares."

"You can't. I don't have any satin sheets."

"Oh, I'll be fine. Good-night, Jehan."

Jehan laid awake, listening to the rhythmic breathing of Joly. His eyes popped wide open as he heard the door open softly, the glow of the flame flashing upon his face.

He turned his head; Joly mumbling and wiggling about behind him. It was Monsieur Enjolras, dressed in a night robe, placing the lantern on the night table besides his son's bed. Fidgeting, and muttering incoherent statements, he placed a chaste kiss on his forehead, brushing any the curls.

Joly shifted, throwing an arm on his face, effectively blocking his view. At least the fingernails were clean. He grabbed the offending limb, placing it the farthest from him that he could.


End file.
